


Chuck vs The Big Three

by nutmeg223



Series: Charles NOT in Charge [3]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 02:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223





	Chuck vs The Big Three

There were a lot of words Chuck could use to describe Casey: dictatorial, domineering, douche-y, dickhead, dominant, but only if he wanted to be fed his own feet. Most of those words ran through his head as the bigger man hauled him back to the Nerd Herder, away from the gunfire and danger and pissed off Sarah and drug-runners. 

"Ow!" Chuck complained, swatting at the fingers pinching his ear. Casey'd caught onto it like it was the best handle available, despite easy access to an arm, once Sarah had taken down the young man who'd tried to use him as cover. 

"Put a cork in it." Casey growled and fished the keys out of Chuck's pocket. 

"That's attached to me!" Chuck hissed, hoping like hell that the backup who'd arrived a couple of minutes before couldn't hear or see what was going on. He had 0 street cred points already; he didn't need anyone seeing him dragged out to the car by his ear. 

Casey opened the door, muttering about non-American made pieces of crap, and folded the seat forward. He shoved Chuck down toward the footwells. Chuck resisted being crammed into the back seat until Casey landed a resounding smack to the seat of his pants. 

"Get down!" he ordered. "Or so help me, Bartowski, you'll be the floor show!"

Chuck got down, fast. Casey tucked a blanket over him before slamming the door shut and locking him in. He listened to Casey ran back into the warehouse, tracking him by the gunfire (his) and screaming (the bad guys). His backside stung under his pants, making his stomach clench unpleasantly. He was so, so dead when Casey got his hands on him. After two and a half months of being Casey's cover S.O., he was WAY too familiar with the Major's methods of dealing with misbehaving assets. Oh god, he was dead; he was Bonsai food, if his remains were allowed within the 5 foot safety perimeter. He wasn't, in general, so his remains probably wouldn't be, either. He tucked himself down more comfortably, hoping that cooperation now would mitigate consequences later. It never really did, but he could hope. 

He breathed through his nose, trying to ease the knots in his stomach. He'd screwed up, again. He'd broken a cardinal rule, one of the big three, and he was going to pay for it later if that smack meant anything. A single spank from Casey was usually a down payment on an afternoon or evening or whatever spent wailing over the older man's knee. Casey didn't fool around with broken rules, and he had a lot of rules. Not that Chuck minded the rules, really. They made things run more smoothly, and he knew what to expect. He shifted around again and winced when something sharp dug into his palm. He could feel the blood welling up as he moved his hand. 

"Crap." He muttered and dug around in his pocket. Casey generally made sure there was a...there, a handkerchief. He wrapped it around his hand as best he could in the dark. 

The plus side of the rules and the growling and the possessiveness was that Casey was an amazing cover-boyfriend, or real boyfriend, because cover-relationships did NOT involve those kinds of kisses. He was pretty sure of that. Just as he was sure that buried under the gruffness was a man who a.) took care of his things (and considered anyone he was in a relationship with one of his things) and b.) showed he cared more than he told. Casey would just grunt if asked, but Chuck knew he cared, at least a little. About a month into the new cover, and just after that first, awful spanking, he'd felt like he'd ceased to be just the cover relationship. And, you know, the knee-wobbling kisses. And seriously amazing dates. Like Casey was some kind of date ninja or genius or something. He was totally NOT romantic; there were no rose petals or anything like that, but his dates were thoughtful and awesome. Like the evening at the symphony with Neil deGrasse Tyson and The Planets. Bonus - Casey was a closet snuggler, although the word, like boyfriend, was forbidden. Double bonus - being called idiot, or moron, or numbnuts now sounded more affectionate than disgusted. Mostly. 

Chuck stiffened and froze as he heard a series of explosions and gunfire before he heard the Herder doors unlock. It rocked a little as Casey and Sarah threw themselves in and peeled rubber getting away, Casey at the wheel. 

"So, success? Go Team Bartowski and assorted backup CIA?" Chuck popped up from the footwells. 

"Get down!" Casey and Sarah barked at the same time, Sarah reaching back to shove him down. 

Chuck hunkered down again, with help from Sarah, huffing. Seriously, like anyone could see him? So the getaway car was a little identifiable, but he figured the bad guys would be too with the explosion and the CIA to follow. Sometimes, his handlers were a little too protective. He was only allowed up once they'd dropped Sarah off a the Weinerlicious for her car, and even then Casey made him stay in the back seat. He sulked a little all the way back to Echo Park, but only a little. Casey didn't like sulking. 

Unfortunately, they ran into Awesome as Casey all-but-frog-marched him to his apartment. 

"Ooh, bro, not awesomeness on the horizon?" Devon looked nervously at Casey. 

"We're discussing a work thing." Casey ground out, trying to edge around Awesome. 

"If you need a referee, you can always…" 

Casey grunted at him and marched Chuck toward his doom. He was propelled into the apartment, and put on the sofa with some force. Casey adjusted the blinds and then came back to tower over him. Chuck pulled on the suddenly too-tight neck of his shirt. 

"The hell were you thinking, kid?" Casey opened with a growl. 

"I could help!" Chuck protested, picking at the handkerchief wrapped around his hand. 

"By getting into the middle of a firefight and being held hostage?" Casey raised an eyebrow. 

Chuck shifted, guilt twisting in his gut. He pulled at the handkerchief again. 

"I...um...it was only for a minute!"

"I had to haul your ass out of there, leaving Walker with minimal backup because the CIA is a bunch of numbnuts," Casey continued the scold. "There isn't any amount of time it's acceptable for you to be held hostage, kid...and what the hell did you do to yourself?"

Of course he'd zeroed in on the injury. Chuck reluctantly offered up his hand. No reason to compound offences by being stubborn, although Casey had an unhealthy attraction to peroxide. He was almost as bad as Ellie. The bigger man unwrapped his hand and inspected the nasty cut across his palm. 

"We're going to take care of this," Casey shook Chuck's injured hand a little. "And then we're going to take care of your complete inability to do as I tell you." 

Chuck couldn't hold back a squeak as Casey took hold of his elbow and hauled him bodily into the tiny first floor bathroom. He was put on the closed toilet to wait while Casey rooted around in his medicine cabinet. Chuck considered trying to edge around Casey and make a break for freedom, or at least the protection of Captain Awesome, but he didn't think he could get around the bigger man. And anyway, he figured that when Casey caught up with him, if he even got out the door, he'd just wind up spanked where he was found. Ellie and Awesome already wondered enough about their relationship, he didn't need those questions, too. Or Ellie's scrunchy worried face. 

Casey set what he needed on the tiny counter, and Chuck breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of needles. Casey somehow managed to crouch down in front of him. 

"Hand." He ordered. 

Chuck gave his hand over; Casey cupped it gently in one of his and took another look at the cut. Chuck leaned forward to look too. It was shallow, but looked really nasty. 

"Move out of my light," Casey ordered, sounding exasperated. "Christ, kid, what the hell did you get yourself on?"

"I don't know." Chuck replied tersely. "I couldn't see due to the blanket and the impending suffocation by blanket."

"Don't even start on that, kid. We needed you out of sight." Casey pulled Chuck up to stand by the sink and reached for the peroxide. "I told you that four times."

Chuck pulled back on his hand and go precisely nowhere. 

"Casey!" he whined. "It's clean, I swear!"

"Cork it." Casey gripped Chuck's wrist firmly and held it over the sink so he could pour peroxide over the cut, watched it bubble madly. 

Chuck whined, high and pained, and tried to break Casey's iron grip before the man could pour more liquid fire on his hand. It hurt enough without the peroxide! He was both unsuccessful and reminded of Casey's strength. He got peroxided twice more before Casey was satisfied, and then he was sat down again for Neosporin and butterfly bandages. Casey wrapped gauze around the whole thing to keep everything in place, and taped it neatly, before he cleaned up. Everything went back where it belonged, and in Chuck's opinion didn't take nearly long enough, before Casey turned the Look on him. He shrank back a bit. 

"Come on, kid. We need to discuss what the hell you thought you were doing today." Casey let himself growl a little. His boy had nearly given him a heart attack. 

"We...we really don't!" Chuck squirmed. "I promise I'll stay in the car the next time, really!"

Casey crossed his arms and Looked at his squirming boy. 

"Hm."

Chuck swallowed hard. 

"I...I know I shouldn't have gotten involved today, but I thought...I...um...I just…"

"Mmm." Casey hauled his boy up and out of the bathroom; he wasn't doing any of this with the kid sitting on a toilet. 

And the room was so damn small he didn't have enough space for a full swing, anyway. 

"I heard the gunfire and I got worried and you and Sarah were gone and…"

"Only thing we need to talk about is what I told you to do today." Casey put his boy down on the sofa. "What was that?"

"Stay in the car." Chuck answered promptly. 

"And what did you do?" Casey crossed his arms, emphasizing his biceps. He watched the kid tracking his hands. 

"I got out of the car." Chuck shifted nervously. "And I was held hostage, but only for a minute!"

"And today was three, kid. I gave you three chances to follow orders; you're done."

"But you don't have to!" Chuck protested, all nerves and wide, worried brown eyes. "I won't do it again! I swear!"

"And I heard that promise the last two times. Now I keep my promise." Casey reached for Chuck, but his boy pressed back into the sofa.

"But I don't want you to!" Chuck whined. 

Casey ignored the pleading eyes and reached around outstretched hands to pinch his boy's ear and tug. Chuck, still pleading, followed his ear up. 

"Ow ow ow ow, Casey! That's...ow!" Chuck complained, swatting at Casey's hand. 

Casey, out of patience, laid a hard swat across the kid's backside. 

"OW!" Chuck shifted his hips forward, away from the hard hand. 

"Get your ass upstairs and get your nose in a corner." Casey let his boy's ear loose and swatted again, sending him scuttling toward the stairs. 

He watched his boy flee for the relative safety of the time-out corner in the bedroom and sighed. He didn't mind a certain amount of sass, and god knew he appreciated Chuck's quick wit and wits. He minded the near constant arguing and back-talk and heel-dragging. His boy'd had ample time to get with the damn program, from now on no three chances and precious little leeway. He'd learn to do as he was told, when he was told or he'd be a very sorry boy. Casey rubbed a hand over his face and rolled some of the tension out of his shoulders before he headed up after Chuck. 

He was an old-fashioned man, not one into the theory of egalitarian relationships, at least with a boy like Chuck. The kid probably wouldn't agree, but he needed the rules and the consequences. His sister had done as best as she could, but even she could only do so much with a boy like her brother. Chuck needed discipline, and he responded to rules. In any case, Casey knew one of them had to be in charge, or they wouldn't get anywhere. And it certainly wasn't Bartowski running their ship.  

He headed into the bedroom, thankful to find Chuck actually in the corner. He let the kid stand there for a few more minutes, wanting his boy to stew a little longer, while he straightened up a little. By the set of his boy's shoulders, he was going to get a mouthful of sass and stubbornness when he released the kid from the corner. He wondered, briefly, if he should just give up and get out the hairbrush, but he was more than sure he could make an impression with the flat of his hand. He finished straightening and sat on the bed. 

"Ok, kid, come here."

Chuck stayed where he was, safely in the corner. He'd go, eventually, because he'd learned the hard way that refusing just made things worse, but he couldn't help balking a little. Having to walk to Casey when he knew what the older man was planning...no, just no. 

"I'm good!" he sounded a little manic, but who wouldn't? "I'm good right here! It's a good corner! No dust!"

"Bartowski, move your ass, right now." Casey gritted his teeth against the irritation. 

The kid had wormed his way onto the "Not to be shot at any cost" list, but he was standing in the way of Casey exercising his rights, rights that included instilling discipline and enforcing rules. And for Chrissakes, he wasn't standing for it. Chuck had point two seconds to get his ass in gear before it got spanked every night for a week. 

"But...can't we talk about this, buddy? I mean, I think open and honest communication is vital to a healthy and…"

"Unless you want to repeat this every night for the next week, kid, get over here." Casey cut into the kid's nervous babble. "And unbunch your shorts; I'm going to blister your ass, not feed you to the Bonsai."

That worked, beautifully. It wasn't an empty threat; he'd really wallop the kid every night until he thought Chuck got it. A week generally did it. Chuck dragged over to him, coming to a stop just outside his reach, and gave him a wary look. 

"You really don't need to do this, Casey, I swear. I'll beha...I'll stay in the car. I will." 

Casey caught the truncated 'I'll behave'. It was the same every time; boys like Chuck were always ready to behave when consequences were at hand. The trick was getting them to behave once they could sit comfortably again. Casey leaned forward and snagged the kid's belt loop, pulling him to stand between his knees. 

"What rule is this about?" Casey ignored the kid's feeble twisting and shifting and popped the button on his pants. 

"Rule three...but Casey! I...what are you doing?!" Chuck tried to twist from Casey's grip as the older man unzipped him and whisked his pants straight down to his ankles. 

Casey just gave him a look that implied it should be obvious. "Step out." 

Chuck shuffled his feet out of the puddled legs of his black pants and kicked them back, still trying to get himself out of Casey's grip. 

"Tell me what rule three is." Casey quickly tipped Chuck over his thigh before the kid could get himself any more worked up.  

"Hey! Casey! What are you...no! I don't want you to! Let me up!" Chuck protested; he hated this position. He hated having to discuss his behavior while over Casey's knee even more. 

Casey answered the struggling and panicked-sounding orders with a solid spank to the seat of the kid's TARDIS boxers. 

"Ow! Casey! Casey, this isn't funny! Let me up! Once was...I don't want you to!" 

The kid was edging toward a full-out panicked tantrum, so Casey landed another hard smack dead center before he whisked the boxers down to his boy's knee. They had time, so he let Chuck struggle, not that it would do him any good. He wasn't going anywhere until Casey decided, and he damn well wouldn't be going anywhere until sitting was a distant memory. 

"Casey! Please! Please don't! I'll be good!" Chuck clutched at the comforter, damn well knowing better than to reach back, although he squirmed madly. 

"Tell me what rule three is." Casey kept his voice level as he rested a hand across his boy's clenching backside. 

Chuck whined unhappily, still fighting against the reality of his situation. Casey patted, focusing his boy's attention on his vulnerable cheeks. 

"I can give you some help remembering, but you're not going to like it." 

"I'm not allowed to willfully put myself in danger, that includes getting out of the car when I was told to stay, especially if I hear shots fired." Chuck finally gave up the answer, although his tone was verging on the disrespectful and he was kicking against the floor testily. 

Casey answered with a sharp smack to the fullest part of his bottom. 

"OW!" Chuck looked back so he could glare at Casey. "This isn't necessary!"

Casey just snorted in response and laid down a volley of hard spanks. 

"Ow! Ow, Casey! No! I won't do it again! Please, no!" Chuck pleaded, squirming against the sting. 

"Oh, yeah, kid, this is happening. I should have put you over my knee the minute you got out of that chopper, first time out, but Walker would have flipped her shit." Casey smacked firmly, ignoring the muffled squeaking from his boy. 

He gave spanking his boy his full attention, as he did with everything. He had a feeling Chuck didn't appreciate the attention, given all the wiggling going on.  Showed off his boy's very pretty ass, though. He slapped his hand down firmly, methodically painting Chuck's backside a good, healthy pink. Pink looked pretty damn good on his fair skin, and once they got past the next couple of months of rebellion, he'd be showing his boy how much fun a warm backside could be. But that was for the future; right now he needed to concentrate on hot, red, and sore. He'd rather not spank if he could avoid it, but Chuck had a way of pushing right to the limits. Unluckily for his ass, Casey had no problem enforcing strong limits and yanking his boy back onto the right path via a damn good paddling. 

Held hostage for just a minute, his ass. 

As Casey smacked Chuck's backside to a dark pink, headed toward red, he realized that the muffled squealing and squeaking had stopped and the kid was almost silent, back rigid with tension. Trust his brat to go silent just when he needed the kid's unending chatter. Usually, even being bent over a hip and swatted sent his boy squeaking and apologizing. He landed a flurry of hard spanks, bringing his boy's bottom to a bright, painful red. Chuck gasped and kicked out against the burning smacks. 

Casey, satisfied with the deep red he'd spanked into his boy's soft cheeks, shifted Chuck further forward and targeted still-pale thighs and sit-spots. Chuck squeaked and squirmed against the stinging spanks to very tender skin, the heavy spanks finally tearing a solid yell out of him. 

"No one is going to...Christ, kid, you yell however much you want. We're soundproofed." The 'you moron' went unspoken. 

Casey spanked steadily, layering sting over sting on soft, tender skin. After the first yell, something let loose in his boy and Chuck bellowed and kicked, still fighting the discipline. 

"No more! Casey, please! No! No more!" he begged. 

Casey cracked his hand down a little harder. He's expected resistance, though, so he tucked his boy closer and paddled hard, letting the kid kick and yell. The first spanking was a shock; the second was an unwelcome reality, and he'd known it would be a bad one.  He judged the moment,

"If I have to spank you every night, kid, you're going to learn to mind me. Unless you have other intel, stay in the car means stay in the car," he lectured. 

"OW! Caseeey! OW, NO!"

"You're not in control here, kid." Casey concentrated his spanking where Chuck would feel it every time he sat. "You don't decide when your butt is sore enough to remind you to behave."

Chuck went stiff at the harder spanks and pushed his toes hard against the floor before he went limp, finally sobbing into the comforter. Casey spanked steadily for a few more minutes, wanting to make sure that Chuck got it. The kid had more try than 95% of the recruits Casey'd come across, despite the habit of whining, but he also needed to remember that he wasn't an agent and he wasn't allowed to do certain things. Casey landed the last few swats and rested his palm against his boy's blazing cheeks. He'd reduced the kid to a snotty, snobbing mess. 

"You going to be a good boy for me? Do as you're told?" 

"Yes! Yessir! M'sorry! Be good!" Chuck sobbed fervently. 

"Good. We're done with giving you more than one chance to follow the rules. You know what they are; you do what you're supposed to. Got it?" he patted to underline his point. 

"Yes! Got it! Be good for you!"

At that, Casey manhandled his boy up and settled him, straddling his lap. Chuck hid his face in Casey's shoulder, crying out his roiling emotions. Casey rubbed a hand up and down Chuck's spine, soothing him. He didn't bother saying anything, just let his boy calm down in his own time. Slowly, the kid's sobbing gave way to shuddering, hitching breaths. Chuck shifted a little so he could rest his cheek on Casey's shoulder and rest. Casey allowed it, anchoring the kid with an arm across his back, and waited. 

"You're snu-holding me," Chuck murmured, sniffling and grateful that he'd remembered that "snuggling" was forbidden. That "snuggling" or "snuggle" or "cuddle" or "boyfriend" could get his mouth washed out almost immediately. Probably. Casey'd threatened, but he wasn't sure it would actually happen. It could have been one of those threats like "Kid, if you don't knock it off right now, I'll wrap those lanky legs around your neck."

"Just tanned your ass, too, if we're stating the obvious." Casey rumbled. "And you're snotting on my shirt, kid." 

"But you don't DO that. You don't even like the word I totally didn't say because you told me not to." Chuck went to wipe his nose on his sleeve, remembered he was wearing a short-sleeve Nerd Herd shirt, and went for the gauze instead. He found his wrist gripped tight. "You said you didn't like it."

"Christ, you really are twelve." Casey muttered, producing a handkerchief. "Blow." 

That was all Casey: gruff and yet undeniably comforting, with a couple of insults thrown into the mix. Chuck wiggled a little, wanting desperately to rub his burning ass, but knowing better than to even try. He pushed his luck a little and ducked his cheek down to rest on Casey's shoulder again. He wasn't really sure how the personal contact thing worked with Casey, but considering the couple of very chaste nights he'd spent in Casey's bed, waking up in the older man's arms in a grip he couldn't get out of, he figured Casey for a closet cuddler. Holder. He sighed, suddenly seriously tired. Even after a few months of his new life, he wasn't really used to the adrenaline drop. Casey rubbed a big, warm hand up and down his back; Chuck hummed happily, he couldn't really help it. 

"Let's get some pants on you. Don't want to give anyone an eyeful." Casey shifted Chuck to stand and went to root through a drawer. "You're going to have to bring some of yours over, but you probably want bigger ones right now." 

Chuck watched, feeling dazed and drained, until a pair of Casey's flannel pants hit him square in the face. He got them halfway up before he hesitated, not really wanting anything against his butt yet. Casey, of course, noticed his hesitation and crossed to him, easing the pants up himself and tying the drawstring. 

"Shirt." 

"Wha'?" Chuck knew he was doing the Bartowski confused scrunchy face, not to be confused with the Ellie worried scrunchy face, but he hadn't really expected to change. 

"Get with it, Bartowski, I don't have all day. Get that shirt off." Casey ordered. 

When Chuck hesitated again, Casey stripped him out of the shirt himself. He got the kid's undershirt off, too, wanting to see what being slammed into a wall had done to him this time. The bruises didn't look too bad, but he wouldn't have had any if he'd stayed in the damn car. He manhandled the kid into one of his long-sleeve tees, letting the act of tending to his boy's needs calm some of the anger he felt toward the punk who'd put the bruises there. The punk who'd gone down hard; Walker got testy when people held Chuck hostage. 

"Go on and wash your face, then come down to the kitchen when you're ready." Casey ordered, but more gently, giving Chuck a nudge toward the bathroom. 

He waited until he heard water running before he went down to the kitchen and spread what he needed over the table. He'd have a briefing with the General later, after he'd sent the kid up to bed. He'd already started his report by the time Chuck trailed into the kitchen, looking a little better. Less tearstained, anyway. Kid would go down hard tonight, probably sleep through the night for once. 

"Sit." He pointed at the chair opposite his with his pen.

"Umm…" Chuck hesitated. 

"Sit your butt down, or I put you in that chair." Casey growled. 

He was mollified when the kid's body obeyed the growl, dropping him right onto the unpadded seat. Chuck yipped at the hard, wooden seat against his much softer and sorer one. 

"You write what's at the top of that page until I'm done with my report." 

It took a minute to the meaning of his order to percolate through the kid's brain. 

"Lines?" Chuck squawked. "You're asking me to write lines, again? Dude! That is so not cool! I'm not…"

"I'm telling, Bartowski. Get busy." 

Chuck opened his mouth to protest further. Kid had no sense of self-preservation. Casey spoke over his objections, just to save him from himself. 

"For someone with an ass that color, I'm hearing a lot of sass. My arm isn't nearly tired, kid, and if you keep it up, I won't care if the General pops in while I'm dealing with you." 

The not-so-stealthy threat had Chuck scrabbling for the pen. Casey stifled a chuckle at the wide-eyed nervousness; he didn't particularly care who saw him deal with his boy, but he had a feeling that neither Beckman nor Chuck would appreciate that. He got the expected huff as the kid read what he'd put at the top of the page:

"I will stay in the car, and not endanger my life and the lives of all those who have to come save me, or Major Casey will start handcuffing me into the back seat." 

Chuck Looked at him, mouth agape. 

"You say anything that's rolling around in your head right now, kid, and you're looking at quality time with some Ivory." 

As expected, Chuck shut his mouth with a snap and got writing. The look he gave the paper should have sent it up in flames. 

"Good choice, kid." 

As always, the quiet praise made the kid light up like Christmas. He doled it out pretty sparingly, wanting Chuck to strive for it. He was pretty damn proud of the kid, though, most of the time. At least when he wasn't trying to restrain himself from handing out a public paddling. He watched Chuck wiggle around a little, obviously trying to get his weight off his butt. 

"You keep up the squirming, and I'll put you on a stool at the counter." 

That got him still again for a few minutes. He'd accept a little squirming; sitting on a freshly spanked butt was no picnic, especially when it was a sore as his boy's had to be. The huffing, though, he wouldn't put up with. 

"Anything I can't read is going to be redone. That's getting appended to my report to the General."

She'd already had a delivery of "I will not purposefully irritate General Beckman." and another of "I will not speak during briefings unless I have been acknowledged and asked for an opinion." That one was still a work in progress, though. The kid's mouth and brain were wired without much of a filter in between. 

Chuck glared at him a little, but subsided at a raised eyebrow and got back to work, writing with ostentatious care. Casey let him have his little brat-moment...they never lasted that long, unless his boy was spinning out. True to form, it was only a couple of minutes before Casey felt Chuck's eyes on him. 

"What, kid?" he didn't look up from his work. 

"I didn't just break Rule Three." Chuck muttered. 

"Hmm?" 

"The only of of the big rules I didn't break was honesty." Chuck shifted a little. 

"And I'm pretty sure I was thorough enough. Unless you feel like you deserve more?"

"No! No, big guy, you were really, really thorough! Umm...I'm sorry, though. I was disrespectful and disobedient and I put everyone in danger. I'm sorry." 

The last was more of a mutter at his paper, and Casey looked up to see the kid tracing a finger over the gauze on his hand and biting his lip. 

"I appreciate the apology." Casey knew he sounded stiff, but it was the best he could do. "You were forgiven a while ago, kid, and you paid in full. Quit picking at the gauze."

"I…" Chuck bit his lip again, trying to hide it twisting. "Thanks." 

"Quit your stalling," it was a gentle scold, but Chuck still ducked his head. "Those lines won't write themselves." 

"I...yeah." 

At least the kid recognised the out he'd been given. Casey worked steadily through the mountain of paperwork generated by a government asset held hostage (but only for minute). He had a feeling that Beckman was going to ream him for this one. 

"So...pizza for dinner?" 

Casey snorted. 

"Nice try, kid, but I saw what you and Grimes ate for lunch. I'm cooking."

Chuck's shoulders drooped a little bit, so Casey added,

"But if you behave for me, we might watch a movie after."

* * *

Much later, after he'd made sure Chuck ate a decent dinner, they were curled up on the sofa together, Chuck mostly draped over him and snoozing. He'd sent Chuck up to change into boxers instead of the flannels after dinner, knowing his would be loose enough to be comfortable. They'd started off with Chuck curled into his side, but as one movie became two, he'd stretched out and yanked the kid down on top of him. Chuck had curled into him, head on his chest, and had managed to fall asleep halfway through Die Hard 2.

Suddenly, explosions were interrupted by Beckman's face, her eyebrow shooting up as she took in the half-naked boy draped over her top agent. Casey held up a hand, asking for five minutes, and she clicked off. He figured she'd probably kept the audio open, though. He checked the clock, and sure enough, it was 10:30. Early enough to send the kid up. 

"Chuck...come on, kid. You need to go up to bed."

"Comfy," Chuck whined. 

"Hey, none of that." Casey rubbed a hand over unspanked thigh and patted. "Behave for me." 

Chuck pulled back from where he'd had his head pillowed on Casey's chest and glowered. 

"You said eleven!" he protested. "It's not...too early!"

"Go on up, shower, put on pajamas, and I'll be up in a few. Get yourself into bed, too. By then it'll be eleven, kid." He'd found that it helped to be extremely specific with his boy. God help him once it was just him and Beckman. 

Chuck made to curl into Casey again but was stopped by a firm hand patting his still-sore backside. 

"Do you need help?" 

That got the kid moving. He'd learned, quickly, that being helped to do what he'd been told was not a good thing. Not a good thing, at all. Casey watched Chuck mutter himself upstairs, and turned back to the TV when he heard water running. Beckman filled the screen again. 

"Major, I would ask how the cover is, but I can see for myself."

"Yes, ma'am." Casey stifled the urge to wince. 

"Fortunately for you, Major, you have anticipated orders."

"Ma'am?" 

"Obviously, Mr. Bartowski responds to you and your...methods. I want that boy bound to you, Major, and thereby to the United States."

"Ma'am?" It was a safe fall-back, the blank look and slightly rising intonation. 

"Major Casey, you are not that stupid. We know Mr. Bartowski is most loyal to those he...loves. I don't care if you have to marry the boy, just get it done. I don't trust the CIA, and I want him firmly under our control." 

"Ma'am, he still has to tell…"

"Then get it done, Major. Tell the sister tomorrow."

"Ma'am, he might not be rea…"

"That's an order, Major. I am officially rescinding the other part of your initial orders. He is to remain alive and under your specific protection." 

"Ma'am, Don't Ask Don't…"

"Do NOT test my patience, Major. I want that boy bound as tightly as possible to you. Get it done."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am." Casey fell back on decades of training. 

"Good. Keep me updated. And Major?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Discuss reading the sister and her...the other doctor in with the asset. I've been considering your reasoning on the subject, and I concur that having two doctors read into the project will be helpful. It will also make it easier to justify the agent at the hospital."

"I'll talk to him, ma'am."

"If you have to, you'll be telling. Make him see it's a good idea."

"Yes, ma'am." 

The screen went black. Casey relaxed fractionally and took a deep breath. He was NOT looking forward to talking to another Bartowski tomorrow. Or Captain Awesome. He rubbed a hand over his face and rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve some tension, before he went up to his boy and bed. Soft and sleepy Chuck was one of his favorites, anyway.

 


End file.
